


finding ways

by Oparu



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, background cornwell/lorca, background sarek/amanda grayson, finding comfort in each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: Admiral Cornwell travels to Vulcan to tell Amanda Grayson of Michael's death and the destruction of the USS Discovery. She doesn't realize how much she needs someone to share her grief with.





	finding ways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moebius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moebius/gifts).



> I love both of these two and their capacity to care for others. I imagine Sarek and Amanda have a open relationship (I hope that's okay) because she might have more human needs and I feel like he'd understand that. 
> 
> background Cornwell/Lorca as well.

Kat has to stand across from her in the doorway, hands behind her back because there are no good places to put your hands when you have to say things like this. The  _ Discovery's _ crew is small, only one hundred thirty-six doorsteps to stand on. One hundred thirty-five, because Gabriel has no family, and she can't let herself think about that too much or she won't be able to hold together at all. 

And Amanda deserves better. Sarek does, but he's at headquarters and he already knows but she has to see Amanda and tell her.

" _ Discovery _ is gone," Amanda begins with tears in her eyes, waving Kat in. Her voice is grave but her eyes are soft. "Come on, Admiral, come in."

Kat knows how to respond to grief, how to be polite and apologetic, how to sit still while they rail at her. "Sarek--"

"Informed me." Amanda reaches up and across, taking Kat's hand. "You found the debris, Klingons..." Her hand trembles in Kat's, but she squeezes her fingers. "You didn't have to come." 

"I did." She stands awkwardly in Amanda's perfect living room, a spectre of death, unwelcome, unnecessary. There's been so much fighting that Kat feels naked without her armor, without her side arm. Even on Vulcan, standing beside Amanda. "I saw the ship, what should have been the ship." Her voice cracks. It shouldn't. She knows better. She's here to provide comfort, not seek it. 

"Sit down, Admiral." 

How long has it been since anyone asked that? Since she was anywhere but in control? Running a meeting, writing casualty reports.

"I can't stay."

"You will stay and drink tea with me, you lost someone on that ship too." Amanda tugs her hand, pulling her towards the sofa. "I know Captain Lorca didn't have any family left, but you were close."

"We knew each other since the Academy." Which means nothing. Not compared to losing a daughter. Amanda's lost so much more but she's looking after her, pouring her tea. 

"Do you know what my husband says about emotions?" 

Kat blinks at her. The tears are there in Amanda's eyes but they're restrained. She's been on Vulcan for years, raising her son, married to Sarek, her control is comfortable, almost effortless, and Kat's burns. Everything burns cold as if she's adrift in space like the remnants of  _ Discovery _ . 

"No, I can't say we've talked about anything that's not--"

"The political climate and the fate of the galaxy," Amanda says, smiling over the elegant Vulcan teapot. "That's efficient, but if you ever get a chance to talk, really talk, he's a good friend to have."

"And I look like I need one?"

Amanda pours the tea then sits down beside her, again covering Kat's hand with her own. "Back on Earth I would have said something polite about how we all need support, especially now, and you, carrying so many burdens, caring for so many people."

"But we're on Vulcan."

"We are, so, Admiral-"

"Kat, please." 

"Kat," Amanda tests that and her smile broadens. "Well, to be Vulcan in the most human sort of way, I know grief, I carry it. It feels like I've been hollowed out on the inside."

"Michael--"

"Is never coming home." Amanda's hand trembles on her cup. "I knew it was a possibility, infinite diversity, infinite combinations, hundreds of thousands of ways Michael would never come home to me. When she was a child, we'd go out into the desert, just out there, take the tent and the sleeping bags and we'd stare up at the stars. She could name them all."

"Yeah?"

"Even from Vulcan. She'd been here a few months, still so traumatized, sleep-walking through school, but the stars she knew." 

"Gabriel and I went to watch the Perseids, years ago, in Iowa of all places."

"Very romantic."

"I know, it's sounds ridiculous."

"No, no, it sounds beautiful. Cool grass and the dew sticking to the corn."

"Corn?"

"I hear there's always corn in Iowa." 

Kat has to laugh, and it catches on the lump in her chest, turning to a sob. "Oh?"

"Of course, you walk through the cornfields, find a good hill, lay out your blanket and watch the stars fall." She lifts her tea in a tearful toast. "I know they're rocks."

"I wasn't doubting you." 

"I like to check, you Starfleet types get all literal." Amanda brushes her tears away and smiles, someone warm when Kat's stomach is a ball of ice. "Not as literal as Vulcans." 

"Of course." 

She sips her tea, but it catches, burns somehow down her chest as if she's drinking sand. "I know what I have to do."

"You'll go on."

Amanda's eyes are so dark, so wet, and it's like staring up when the sky is falling. 

So they talk, about Sarek and emotions, death and grief and longing for the people they love who are lost. Tea turns to wine, and they eat dinner together. It's synthesized, bland, but it's the first time she's eaten without feeling like it's stone in her stomach. 

Amanda's hands keep finding hers and they pack two bags and walk out into the desert and the setting sun. Kat has leave and it's just a day. She can afford a day, the war can wait a day. She has to think of herself as a patient to even allow it, but amanda's lost and she's lost.

And the Vulcan desert is full of life. They sit side by side, watching the empty stars. Amanda pulls her closer, wraps her arm around Kat's waist and she leans closer, and Kat's warm, so warm and so lost.

Kat nuzzles her cheek, and Amanda's lips brush her chin. "It's all right," she begins. 

Kat knows how vulnerability changes one's decisions, how you can get lost wen you're broken, how dangerous--

"I want to kiss you."

Amanda holds Kat's face and her eyes shine brighter than the heartless stars. "I would like that."

They're reaching, grasping at something that doesn't ache, but kissing her tastes like forgiveness.

Amanda's hair runs smooth through her figners, and her lips move against hers and it's soft and warm and gentle. All the things Kat can't be for herself, 

Amanda's nimble fingers strip her of her uniform, lay her bare on a blanket under the stars. That at least feels right. She is spent, stripped, vulnerable to the elements and the cold fucking nature of the universe. 

And Amanda knows that, touches that with searching hands. 

Grief aches, and this makes it hurt a little less. For a moment, a night, the day she's allowed herself. The little things keep them together, carry them onward. Bourbon and hands in her hair and the stars. 

Amanda runs her hand over her stomach, staring up with her head on Kat's chest. "Don't get lost out there."

"I'll try."

"That's what we do." She turns to Kat, kissing her lightly. "It's what I love about humans. We're not the fastest or the most logical, or the toughest, but we try. We hope, we stare at the stars."

Kat cups her cheek. Right now, the stars are an afterthought behind Amanda's beauty, warmth, and the moment of peace she brings. 


End file.
